


Sensitivity

by WildfireKhaleesi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester/Reader - Freeform, F/M, Porn With Plot, Reader Insert, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, supernatural/reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildfireKhaleesi/pseuds/WildfireKhaleesi
Summary: Y/N gets hexed by a witch, increasing all of her senses, especially those she has for Dean.





	Sensitivity

**Author's Note:**

> Smut ahead! 18+

'Breathe. In, hold it, and out. Easy peasy, keep your legs still, not rigid, Y/N, for fuck’s sake.'   
If you just focus on your breathing and not moving, maybe even not thinking, you’ll be fine. You’re still focusing far too much on the figure driving the car, and you know it, but you can’t peel your eyes away just yet. You think it might kill you to do so. Everything from the way he breathes, to the way he curls his fingers around the steering wheel, and how he wets his lips when they’re too dry or he’s excited because you’re naked and bare in front of him is dire. You need to see it all.   
“Hey!” Sam snaps his fingers in front of you, drawing your attention away from him, and you’re pissed but your subconscious tells you that it’s just the witch juju speaking.   
You frown at Sam and try desperately to shake off the overwhelming need for Dean, “What?” You ask him, watching his hazel eyes crinkle as he smiles, because thank god you’re still capable of talking. Heaven knows what spell the witch hit you with.   
“Are you okay? Do you feel anything weird?” His question is genuine and you ignore the crippling magnetism Dean seems to have.   
“Everything is intense.” You mumble, and Dean shoots you a worried look through the rearview, which is honestly most likely the last thing he should have done because your nails are already digging into your palms hard enough. You think you broke skin.   
“What do you mean?” Dean asks, voice low, dangerously low.   
Your throat runs dry.   
“I just- Everything I’d normally feel is microscopic in comparison to what I’m feeling right now. It’s like I’m in sensory overload.”   
Sam looks at you sadly, eyes full of guilt. “Sorry, Y/N. Should’ve been up there sooner. Would have if she hadn’t set that fucking trap in the backyard.”   
“S’okay Sammy.” You smile, but it feels disingenuous. You just want Dean.   
'Maybe if I close my eyes it will help, can’t fucking focus when he keeps checking on me through the mirror like that.'  
“How much longer?” Sam asks Dean, facing forwards in the passenger seat.   
“Hour or so.” Dean answers.  
You groan, rubbing your thighs together and shutting your eyes tighter.   
“Here, Y/N, try this.” Sam tosses you back his Mp3 player and you eye him gratefully.   
The music is completely unlike how you’ve listened to it before. You’d listened to The Goo Goo Dolls since you were a teenager, and though they’ve long been one of your favorite bands, you’ve never heard or felt their music this way.   
Every strum of a guitar resonates in your body, notes dancing along your bloodstream and vibrating in your ribcage. It’s nearly uncomfortable, but the reward of hearing the music like this outweighs discomfort. It’s delicious.   
You can taste the words on your tongue and feel goosebumps prickle your skin when the bridges play.   
You feel Kaleo play, and then Coldplay, next Greenday, and finally Vance Joy.   
Every song dances in the confines of your body, and you actually forget the close proximity you’re in with Dean.   
It’s not until Sam gently taps your shoulder that you realize you’d fallen asleep. Peter, Paul and Mary are singing somewhere deep in your heart and you shake the earbuds out of your ears gently.   
“We’re home. Are you feeling any better?” His hair rests against his strong jaw and you nod your head lazily.   
“It’s not as strong of a pull now, but it’s definitely still there.”  
“Well,” Dean says, pulling himself out of the Impala, “that’s not exactly ideal but if it’s already wearing off some, that’s good. Means we don’t need to worry too much, Sam’ll still check the books in the library for more information.”  
Sam gives Dean a look, which Dean returns with an eyebrow raised. Sam glances at you, nods his head and huffs, “call me if you need anything?”   
You nod your head, “thanks, Sam.”   
He smiles sheepily at you and gives Dean another look before walking into the bunker and out of sight.   
“You sure you’re all good?” Dean asks, running his pink tongue along his lips. Your face heats up in response.   
“I, uh- I think so.” You swallow hard and kick at the smooth pavement beneath your feet. The garage is warm. “Just kind of sensitive.”   
“Mm, really?” His voice drops a note and lights the fire in your belly.   
Your teeth worry at your bottom lip, and you look directly at Dean for the first time since the beginning of the hunt, eyes wide.   
You fully understand why you were waiting to until you were alone.   
Like the music, it feels like you’re experiencing Dean for the first time.   
His eyes are still the deep green you love, but you can see golden specks that are littered throughout the irises. His stubble is still slight, but it’s darker now, and somehow just more. His lips are still full, but you can see the slight indents in them from where his teeth were chewing at them during his drive.   
His skin is a light tan, and you can swear it’s glowing.   
You can see every single freckle on his face, and the way his eyelashes are bunched together in some areas.   
You can see his eye wrinkles, and the sleep on his face. His hands even look more experienced.   
He steps closer to you, and smells like sweat and whiskey.   
The fire in your belly grows as he smirks at you.   
“Do you want to watch a movie? Or we could just call it a night? If you want-”  
“Shut up.”   
He quirks an eyebrow at you, confused.   
You roll your eyes. “I’m in sensory overload. It’s hard even being in the same room as you. So just shut up, and take my damn clothes off.”   
Dean gawks at you, and you pout at him. “Do I need to take them off myself?”   
“I’m not against that.”   
You smile at him, shaking your head and biting hard on your lip.   
“You first, then.”   
He considers your request, obviously teasing; and then shrugs out of his worn leather jacket. You feel your excitement pool in between your thighs in anticipation.   
His eyes meet yours through his eyelashes as he unbuttons his dark green flannel, fingers working quickly, and you can hear the fabric coming undone.   
The sound comes in third. First being Dean’s voice, second being music.   
It’s like you were intoxicated off of sight and sound.   
The shirt joins the jacket on the pavement, and you sigh loudly, eyeing his broad chest, the taut muscles lying underneath smooth skin, and black ink. Even his tattoo looked more vibrant, the black somehow seeming darker and more void.   
His belt buckle clicks open and your eyes chase the trail of hair on his lower abdomen to wear his hands are now, deep brown leather sliding through denim loops, and falling to the ground.   
He kicks off his shoes and socks, and manages to make that look sinfully sexual, too. You squeeze a nipple through your shirt and bra and breathe loudly, the sensation so strong that your body automatically arches against your hand.   
“Fuck,” Dean groans, eyeing you and palming himself through his jeans.   
“Keep going.” You whisper, voice heavy.   
Dean wets his lips again, and you take a sharp breath in. He’s absolutely beautiful. The button on his jeans come undone with a pop and you follow the zipper as he tugs it down, more of his tufts of hair coming into view as he pulls the denim and cotton boxer briefs he’s wearing under them down.   
You bite your cheek hard as his dick rests against his his abdomen. This slow burn is nearly as excruciating for him as it is for you.   
“Your turn, sweetheart.” He tells you, eyes finding yours.   
You nod your head and run your hands down your black v-neck, grabbing at the hems and raising the fabric dangerously slow.   
Dean’s adam’s apple bobs when your white cotton bra comes into view, nipples erect and fighting against the fabric. Your shirt gently glides up the rest of your upper half and you toss it aside, fingers dancing up your stomach and towards the small clasp on your bra right between your breasts.   
It’s undone with a flick of your forefinger and you can hear Dean’s huff of shit as you shimmy your shoulders out of the thin bands.   
You kick off your sneakers and socks with less grace than Dean, but he must not care because he doesn’t soften or laugh, just watches.   
You mimic his removal of his jeans, yours only taking more time because of an additional button. Your panties, matching your bra, are easiest to remove, and quickest, and you’re thankful for it because you don’t know how much longer you can go without touching Dean.   
“You’re gorgeous.” He whispers, eyes softening like they always do before.   
“You are, too.” You smile, breathily, and you can see him wanting to deny your compliment because he’s Dean and he’ll always think less of himself, but he allows it, instead walking closer to you and grasping your hips in his hands.  
His touch almost does you in, knees trembling. He’s warm and strong, and you can feel every fiber of his connecting with yours, energy building.   
“You okay?” He asks, peering into your eyes.  
“Yes, it’s just a lot to take in.” You whisper, and he nods because he’s so understanding. You take a minute and then nod back, letting him know he can move.   
His hands map out your back and shoulder blades, your body following his touch and shivering against it. He hums at you and you open your eyes that were closed throughout his roaming.   
“That feels amazing.” You whisper.   
He half-grins at you and you feel butterflies in your ribcage. Your fingers run lightly up his thighs, nails scraping against hair and skin. He shudders into your caresses, dick twitching.  
One hand runs up to a nipple, pinching lightly while you lick the palm of your other, grabbing him gently in it’s embrace after it parts from your tongue.   
He moans against your neck, leaning into your body as you pump him slowly, pressure building.   
“Does that feel good?” You whisper into his hair, smelling him and feeling his soft velvet skin against your working hand, your other grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing.   
“Fuck, yes.” He grunts, jerking against your hand and fucking himself against it.   
“Show me.” You say against his skin, biting his shoulder hard enough for him to wince, and then running your tongue along the toothy indents.   
You release him and look into his eyes, heart stopping at how wild and wanton they seem.   
His arms are hot and strong against your body as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, his hands holding onto your shoulders as he carries you to Baby’s hood.   
Your heat clenches hard, realizing exactly where he’s going to fuck you.   
Cool metal meets your ass deliciously, and you pull Dean closer to you.   
“Wait here.” He whispers hoarsely, pulling away and going to the passenger door, you hear rummaging and wait, pinching a nipple and letting a sigh escape your parted lips.   
He returns with a foil package between his teeth, pupils blown at the sight of you playing with yourself on top of his car.   
The foil rips easily, and you moan as you twist a sensitive bud between your thumb and forefinger.   
“Fuck, Dean.” You moan, eyes lidded and watching him roll the condom on, pink tongue parting his lips. Absolutely sinful.   
You feel him hover over you, Baby shifting under his weight. He encases you in his arms, a shoulder resting on either side of your own.   
“You ready for me, sweetheart?” He asks like he always does, and you answer him with an open kiss, and a squeeze of his ass, pulling him flush against you.   
His chest chuckles against your own at your impatience, but he gently works himself into you, filling you completely. Immediately you clench around him, orgasm rippling through your entire being as you suck his tongue into your mouth.   
“Jesus Christ, that was hot,” he groans against you once your body calms. “Are you okay if I move now?”   
“Yes, please move, Dean, need to feel you move.”   
His dick slowly slides out of you, and you can feel every inch of it, painfully aware of the loss of contact.   
You see specks of white when he pushes back into you, pleasure coursing hot through your body.   
“Fuck, again, harder.” You pant against his lips, kissing him again, tongue dancing with his own as he repeats the action.   
“Faster.” You whimper, and he bites your lower lip between his teeth as he picks up his pace, sweat mixing with your own as your skin glides against the metallic bite of the Impala.   
His thrusts soon become more frantic, dick twitching inside of you, and he manages to work his hand between your bodies, easily finding your clit and pinching and tugging at it lightly and deliciously.   
You scream out, coming heavy and hot around his swollen cock, and he follows your screams, panting curses against your throat and spilling himself inside of you.   
Neither of you can tell how much time passes before he lazily pulls himself out of you, pulling himself from the condom and tying it.   
“Want to sleep in my bed tonight?” He asks you, cheeks flushed from being so freshly fucked.   
You nod your head, reaching for him. He rolls his eyes affectionately, but picks you up nonetheless, condom skillfully tossed into the trashcan by the bunker door.   
You nuzzle into his throat, laying delicate kisses on his warm skin. He doesn’t bother picking up your clothes, knowing Sam will still be in the library.   
He can feel your breathing evening out against his throat, and he knows you’re asleep by the time you reach his room.   
Not bothering to wake you to get you dressed, Dean settles you into the covers on his bed, turning off the bedside lamp and crawling into the bed beside you, arms winding around your body as he uses the crook of your neck as a pillow and falls asleep, sated and happy.


End file.
